Twenty-Four Days at Wammy's
by ThoseFeelsFromShips
Summary: A series of twenty-four one-shots involving Wammy's orphanage and the students that lie in it. Cover edit mine, but not original photo.
1. Mistletoe

**A/N: Hi there! So I decided to challenge myself. So, using twenty-four prompts that are in no way mine (credit to tumblr!), I will write and post a one-shot a day for this story until Christmas Eve. But I already screwed up since I didn't post yesterday, so I'll be posting chapters two and three tomorrow. Okey dokey? I hope you enjoy this little series! **

**Also this is the first Death Note fanfic I've posted on here, so I am a bit nervous to post this. Anyway… hope you enjoy! Reviews and follows appreciated. :)**

**Disclaimer: If I were Tsugumi Ohba, Lawlight would be a thing and Mello wouldn't have died.**

**X**

_Mistletoe_

Mistletoe was a most horrid thing in Wammy's.

Every year, some jerk-probably one that wanted to see everyone suffer through the holidays-put up mistletoe everywhere in the mansion. The white berries on the green plant were beautiful, a perfect contrast; the tradition behind it, however, was not.

The teenagers took it too seriously. They wouldn't just kiss anyone, it had to mean something. It had to be real, truthful. The little kids found it gross, and only pecked the other on the cheek before scrubbing at it with their sleeve, in fear of getting 'cooties'.

Matt didn't mind having to kiss anyone, but it was annoying how he had to look up from his Gameboy whenever he was underneath the mistletoe with someone was pointless, really.

It was funny when he saw the younger ones kiss. He remembered the year previous, when Near, of all people, had to peck Linda on the side of her face, much to his denial. Matt had never seen his face so red, or red at all.

There had been another time, ages ago, when B and L were still at the orphanage-before B lost his mind, and before L started solving cases in the place they occurred. L had been walking through the foyer to the dining room, B in front of him. B stopped in the doorway, looked up, and grinned. Of course, mistletoe. Instead of an awkward peck on the cheek, however, B grabbed L by the collar of his shirt and kissed him thoroughly on the lips for a good five seconds. Matt couldn't help but laugh, and L, who was blushing, smacked him in the back of the head.

Mello had not kissed anyone yet, but had been caught underneath the mistletoe more times than he could count. He always managed to escape from kissing anyone. It wasn't fair, to b honest.

Matt had been kissed plenty of times. Some from guys, which were a bit awkward, but the majority of the kisses were from girls. The kisses ranged from a timid peck to full on making out, but that was their fault. After the kiss he would usually hear the giggles of other girls and asking how it was.

Fifteen out of eighteen girls said he was an amazing kisser.

Matt didn't enjoy it, but he didn't loathe it. It was nice to have a good snog or kiss once in a while, but the more snogging he did during the holiday, the more tiring and boring it became.

Matt was hoping he could escape this holiday's mistletoe. It was only the first day of December, so he could do it. Right?

Wrong. From what he'd heard, someone had already put the mistletoe up in miscellaneous places, and there had been plenty of kisses already. He was surprised Roger even allowed this; Roger was so high strung, and he disapproved of any contact whatsoever between students. That man made no sense.

On his Gameboy as usual, Matt decided to go down to the common room and find Mello. Last time he'd seen him was in class, which ended an hour ago. Or two… He'd lost the time, in any case, as he was trying to beat the boss in his game.

After saving his game, he stuck the Gameboy in the front pocket of his jeans and slid his orange tinted goggles down onto his neck. He opened the door and exited the room, walking down the large corridor and down the wood stairs.

The rails were already covered in ribbons, wreaths, and pine tinsel. The dark wood looked nice with the decorations set on them.

Matt continued to walk down the grand staircase, looking at the decorations in awe. He'd been here for a while now, but the decor of each holiday never ceased to amaze him.

He stepped off the final step and rounded the corner, entering the long hall where the drawing room, recreational room and common room could be found. The rec room was the largest of these rooms, filled with countless toys, puzzles and books.

The redhead stood in front of the common room, its large oak doors open for all to see. In it was a fireplace located in the back of the room, a window on each side of it, two large couches set parallel to each other with a coffee table in the middle, a table by the doors with two chairs and a chess set, a large bookshelf on the right side of the room, and two more large chairs on the opposite side of the room, placed beneath a large canvas painting by Claude Monet.

Mello was seated comfortably here, his right hand holding a large textbook and his left scribbling down notes at an alarmingly fast rate. Matt took a seat across from him, smiling.

"Studying much?" He said, pulling out his Gameboy to resume his game.

"We have an exam coming up, and I am not coming second to Near again." said Mello, who was trying to concentrate on the complicated text.

"Dude, relax. You'll do fine, it's not like it's tomorrow."

"Actually, it's in two days. There's no way in hell I'm going to lose again."

"Profanity, profanity!" Matt exclaimed, which earned him an eyeroll from the blonde. He put his Gameboy back in his pocket. "It's not a game, Mello. You need to loosen up."

"I can't just 'loosen up'." Mello said sharply.

"You need to take a break." Matt sighed, taking the textbook out of Mello's hand, as well as his binder, and placed them on the side table.

"Matt, quit it!" Mello shouted, standing up to get his textbook back and smack Matt.

"No. You need to relax, so we're going to go get you a puzzle or something."

Mello gave up arguing with Matt, and began to walk out of the common room and into the rec room.

There were plenty of kids in here, all doing different activities. It was eerily quiet in here, everyone concentrating on what they were doing.

Several kids looked up, snickering for some reason. And then, Matt saw it.

Mistletoe. That damn mistletoe! Right above his and Mello's heads was the small green plant. The worst part about it was there was no escape from this.

Matt was a bit hesitant, and so was Mello. They were best friends, after all, and nothing more. Neither of them really wanted to do this, because they didn't want to make things awkward between the other.

After an intense few seconds, Mello leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Matt's lips.

He nearly melted into the kiss. Any feelings that he had not known of for Mello were expressed in the kiss. It was like his own personal heaven, every amount of bliss devouring him, circulating through him. He wished it could have lasted longer.

They finally pulled away, staring at each other with pink cheeks and smiles. The room was silent once more. Mello took Matt's hand and grabbed a Rubik's Cube, then led him back into the common room, closing the doors.

"I love you, Matt."

"I love you too, Mello."

Matt had never loved mistletoe more.


	2. Hot Chocolate

**A/N: Hello there again and welcome to chapter 2 of this little series! Sorry if L and Near seem a bit out of character... I figured that since B and A are in this fic, still around, that he'd show **_**some**_ **emotion. Crack a few smiles, at least. Also, Near is young in this, so he isn't quite himself yet. Oh, and B is...I don't know. He may seem out of character too. If that's the case, then this is just a cute, not so serious one-shot that involves some type of fun. Let me know what you think. **

**Also, chapter three will hopefully be up by tonight. I'm falling a bit behind, but I'm trying...**

**Disclaimer: If I were Tsugumi Ohba, Matt and Mello would be canon.**

**X**

_Hot Chocolate_

Near was bored.

Near, the one who was always occupied, was bored.

He had solved every Rubik's cube. He built every tower he could with them. He made a fort, with little towers surrounding it. He knocked down the large tower, reset the cubes, and built a fort out of those. A castle. Tiny towers. A tall structure of some sort. B knocked all of this down. He couldn't _stand _the cubes not matching, and as soon as the cubes hit the floor he began to solve them. He solved each in a minute and a half.

Near had solved every puzzle, from plain to colored; one hundred pieces to one thousand. Several times, in wanted something more challenging. Sometimes he hated how he could solve them so easily.

He made more towers. Towers out of dice, cards, even the few plushies he had. Then he started with food-sugar cubes, finger sandwiches, even mini marshmallows to challenge himself (which he ate as he constructed).

Even that grew boring after a while. The other children were snacking on his supply of stacking materials, which was rather annoying.

Near began to wander around the house. What could he do? Maybe he could talk to L for a little bit.

He thought it was a good idea. He needed to talk to someone with a greater mind, with more intellect than him. A lengthy, detailed conversation with a mastermind.

Near made his way up the stairs and down one of the larger halls, where the older boys slept.

here is where A, B, L and a few other boys resided.

He knocked on L's door, yet there was no answer. Odd, as L was usually in his room. Perhaps B knew where he was. Near crossed the corridor and knocked on B's door, and once more there was no answer. If they were gone from their rooms, that meant A was gone as well. That's how it went; if L wasn't in his room, he was in B's. If B wasn't in his room, then he was in A's. And if A wasn't in his room, then he was in L's room. If both A and B weren't in their rooms, they were all in L's. Now all of them were missing from the wing entirely.

Near thought of where they could possibly be_. 'They wouldn't go down to the rec room, since there are too many children in there. The drawing room is Roger's, so that's out of the question. Think, Near.' _He thought, taking a seat on the floor. '_If I were L, I wouldn't go to the common room unless it was absolutely necessary. The classrooms are empty. That leaves the library, dining room and kitchen. However if they __**were **__in the library, they'd already be back up here, since it closed nearly an hour ago. That leaves the dining room and kitchen.'_

And so the albino stood up from his balled position, went down the stairs again, and walked through the large dining room, where they were not to be found. The kitchen it was.

The amount of noise coming from the kitchen was almost unbelievable. From where he was standing, he could hear shouts and loud laughter, as well as something being thrown and hitting a wall, which made him flinch.

Near reached for the doorknob, and opened the door. He cracked a tiny smile at the sight.

L's white shirt was covered in a brown powder, and so was A's. B's black hair looked to have sugar in it, little grains falling and sticking to the fibers of his shirt. Cinnamon sticks littered the counter,some having a few bites out of them. What had hit the wall was actually a wooden spoon, which Near was surprised to see that it hadn't caused a hole in the wall.

The most humorous thing about this sight, however, was the whipped cream that had somehow ended up in B's hair, onto A's face, and all over L's hands. Near assumed L had been the one to have caused this chaos.

"Looks like Near wants to join us." said a grinning B, while L walked over to the small white-haired boy and picked him up.

Near was tiny, and hated being picked up. For his age of six, he looked to be about four years old. L was able to easily pick him up. L was the only person he didn't mind picking him up, mostly because he knew he could trust him and wouldn't try to squeeze him in a suffocating hug.

"I was actually looking for L," Near said as B cleared off a space on the counter for him to sit.

L placed Near gently onto the spot B cleared off. "Well, you found me."

"You can join us if you'd like. Just a few rules. One; don't touch my jam." B said, referring to the jar of strawberry jam beside Near. "Two, don't eat the cocoa powder. Three, don't play with knives."

"You always play with knives." A pointed out.

"Which you shouldn't do." L interjected.

Near grinned at L. "What are you making?"

"Hot chocolate!" A exclaimed, grabbing the can of whipped cream off the other counter and spraying a little swirl on Near's head.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't do that." Near muttered, yet he didn't bother to clean it off.

"I'd prefer it as well, since you just used the last of it." L stated, taking the can from A's hand and throwing it in the trashcan.

"Oops." A shrugged, licking the little bit he had on his finger off.

L grabbed a pot from underneath one of the cupboards and turned the faucet on, filling the pot so there was enough water for the four of them. B then took the pot and placed it onto the stove, turning the gas burner on.

Near began to fiddle with the container of cocoa powder. It looked soft and powdery, like it was finely ground, which it most likely was.

He began to tilt the jar upside down, and he was too late to realize that the lid was open. Brown powder spilled all over his white pajamas. B took the container quickly out of the little boy's hands and set it next to where L was standing; luckily, there was still enough cocoa powder left to make the drink.

"Sorry…" Near mumbled, staring at the pile of powder while the other three simply laughed.

"Your poor pajamas!" B said, dusting off the powder on his pajamas and scooping the little swirl of whipped cream out of his hair. Of course, B being B, he ate it.

"Gross…" A said.

"No, yum." B replied, leaning against the counter.

The water began boiling, which soon caused a mess of things. A was reading the recipe from a cookbook, B was handing L the ingredients, and L was putting the ingredients into the pot.

"'Stir in a pinch of salt-'"

"Why the hell is there salt in hot chocolate?"

"B, stop questioning the ingredients."

"I'm just curious, is all."

Near spoke up. "Humans crave salt. It's natural to want salt, and need to put salt in things to give it more flavor. By adding salt, it probably makes the drink a bit sweeter, which makes for a better flavor."

"Correct, Near." L said, a small smile on his face. "Now, hand me the salt please, B."

"Fine, but only because you said 'please'." B rolled his eyes in a sarcastic way, picking up the salt shaker and handing it to L.

"Thank you."

"I think I should get something in return."

"No, B." L responded all too quickly.

"But-"

"_No_, B."

"Fine." B scoffed, turning away from L.

"Is it finished?" A asked, setting the cookbook down next to Near as he walked towards the stove.

"Almost. We just have to wait a few minutes for the water to stop bubbling so much." L said, turning the burner off.

Near couldn't see the pot from the angle he was sitting at, but he could smell the cocoa.

"I have marshmallows," he said quietly, remembering them from earlier. He also remembered B knocking down his towers. Near swore he had at least seven different personalities.

"What drawer?" L asked.

"The lowest cabinet on the far left, if Matt hasn't stolen them. He tends to do that to annoy me…"

"Well that isn't very nice, is it?" B said.

"No, and neither is knocking down my towers." Near said through gritted teeth.

B froze up a bit before laughing hysterically. "You're too cute Near. Alright, I apologize…"

"Don't call me cute."

"Adorable." A smirked.

"Nor that."

"Can we call you anything?" B asked.

"You can call me Near."

L had gotten the marshmallows out of the cabinet, and has set them in a bowl next to four plain white mugs. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the hot chocolate was finally done.

L poured the drink carefully into each mug, A had lifted Near off the counter by his waist, a few cinnamon sticks in his toddler-like hand. Near placed a stick in each mug, and put a few marshmallows into everyone's drink. L added more however, and his cup was overflowing.

"Cheers," L said, taking a sip of his own drink while a few marshmallows rolled out of the cup.

Near took a sip of his hot chocolate. It tasted wonderful. A had thankfully put him down and he was now the shortest, but the others had sat down on the floor with him.

The four spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, eating and making sweets, as well as making more hot cocoa.

Needless to say, Near wasn't bored anymore.


	3. Snow

**A/N: Andddd... I posted late once again. /.\ Here is a late (and probably very boring) chapter. The plot seemed a lot better in my head... And longer... Ah well. Also,mid I got the weather wrong when it comes to snow in England, please tell me. I don't want to make a mistake with that.**

**Reviews appreciated. :)**

**Disclaimer: I am not Tsugumi Ohba, and thus don't own Death Note.**

**X**

_Snow_

At the time when L first came to the orphanage, there were not many children. It was only him, two boys, and two girls. He was the smallest of them, however the oldest and first one to be there. He did not often associate with them.

He also did not know their names. He may have heard them at some point or another, but if he did, he did not remember them. They all usually played together, but L liked to be alone.

He liked to be alone in either his room or the library, where he could enjoy the solitude since no one ever actually went in the library. He read books that were beyond his age's average reading level, preferably nonfiction books. He could often be seen sitting in the middle of the room, or in the large window.

When he did sit in the window, he liked to watch the outdoors. He liked seeing the willow tree sway when it was windy, and he liked to watch the drops of water slide down the window when it rained. Sometimes he'd even pretend they were in a race, speeding towards the bottom of the window and onto the ground.

L had only seen snow a few times. The weather in England was iffy when it came to snow. If it did snow, it would soon turn to rain, or at least stay as a light dusting. Either way, L enjoyed watching the weather; snow being his favorite.

Tonight happened to be a night when L couldn't sleep. It was becoming a really bad habit, his staying up late; it was also becoming a nuisance, not only to him but also Quillish Wammy, who could never get him to fully fall asleep. He usually left him at eleven o'clock, when he knew he wasn't going to bed, and bade him a goodnight, telling him he must sleep.

But L just couldn't. So, the little five year old, who was lying in his bed, sat up and slid out from underneath the covers.

Being barefoot didn't help the cold he felt surround him. His flannel pajamas did little to keep him warm once out from the warm sheets of his bed. It almost made him want to draw back into bed. Almost. He grabbed his Teddy and held it close to him, to preserve his warmth.

The raven-haired boy walked across the room and opened the door to the hall, then began to walk down the hall.

He felt a bit hungry. He would have to stop by the kitchens and get something to eat. Strawberries, perhaps... No, a cookie..._No_, cake. He wanted cake.

L grinned to himself as he entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a variety of food-all his, of course-ranging from fruit to sweets. The little boy had quite the sweet tooth, and couldn't last a day without them. He grabbed the plastic container with strawberries and a sliver of cake that was already on a plate, his Teddy under his arm.

L began his slow journey to the library, trying not to lose his Teddy while also trying to see where he was going in the dark. It was tricky to maneuver around pieces of furniture placed in the centers of rooms, and avoiding upturned rugs the the other children had caused. Eventually, he made it to the library.

The library was humongous. Bookshelves after bookshelves; row after row. It looked even larger in the dark. There was a large open space when you first walked into the room, with five rectangular tables in placed to create a space between them. This is where L usually sat, in his crouched position, if he was not sitting in the window. As L entered the library, he rushed to set his food down on one of the tables. He took a seat in the chair, pulling his knees up to his chest as he opened the container of strawberries and took one out, taking a small bite out of the red fruit.

It was extremely sweet. Anyone other than L would have thought the flavor as sickened sweet, and would have spit it out at the taste. This sweet flavor, however, was what L enjoyed about them. He took another strawberry and bit into it, savory get the flavor.

L pulled the plate of cake over to him, setting a strawberry on top of the white frosting. He assumed-no, hoped-Wammy had made this. His sweets were the best.

The young boy then realized he had forgotten his fork, and there was no way he was going all the way back to the kitchen to retrieve the utensil.

So what did he do?

He picked up the (strawberry) cake with his hands and attempted to eat it.

Attempted. He had picked up the cake only to have it fall apart in his hand, falling into chunks on the plate.

(Luckily, the frosting didn't make a mess, nor get on his hands.)

Frustrated, the five year old got up with his Teddy and began searching for a book to read.

There were thousands to choose from, and each one interested the young genius more and more. From topics on physics to textbooks on world history; everything piqued his interest, even if it was the slightest bit.

L ended up choosing a book about astrology, and flipped to the section about star formations.

He had ditched his original spot in the chair and took a seat on the hard windowsill. He was able to get enough light from the moon, so he at least wouldn't strain his eyesight a whole lot.

But the light soon went dark. L looked outside to see dark clouds rolling in, slowly, but they were coming this way. He closed the book and turned his attention towards the outdoors.

Soon the clouds were over Wammy's, preparing to do something. The clouds remained stationery over the orphanage, and then...

It began to snow.

Little clumps of white fell from the sky, floating through the air as they descended towards the earth.

L watched the snow for a very long time. He watched as it created a dusting on the ground, and how it eventually evolved into a good four inches. He watched as individual snowflakes stuck to the window, and he could see the patterns of each flake.

It was now approaching 4 A.M. and the raven-haired boy was growing a bit sleepy. But he wanted to continue watching. He wanted to get up close to the snow.

So he ventured towards the back door, placing a stone between the door frame and door so he wouldn't get locked out of the building.

The air chilled him to the bone, but coming outside was worth it. Snowflakes drifted down and landed on his sleeve, and fell into his dark hair. Now that he was even closer, he could feel how cold each flake was, and saw them melt as they came in contact with his pale skin.

He smiled at this.

Of all things the boy could have enjoyed had to be the most quiet thing: watching. Observing. Seeing things with his own eyes.

L grew cold after about five minutes, and was sad to be cold. He wanted to stay outside, but decided it was best to go back inside. He opened the door and kicked the stone away, then curled up onto the windowsill with his Teddy.

Wammy walked into the library that morning to see the little boy fast asleep.


	4. Christmas Tree

**A/N: Late chapter, I'M SO SORRY! I'm trying to type this as fast as I can so I can update this quicker. Also, I need to post today's (technically yesterday's) story. I'm already a day late with this story, since chapter 1 was supposed to be posted on December 1st. I'm trying to finish this by Christmas Eve, I hope I can… Anyway, this chapter is kind of angsty. Oops… Also this briefly mentions suicide. Briefly. Teeny. Just thought I ought to let you know.**

**Reviews and follows appreciated. :)**

**Disclaimer: I am not Tsugumi Ohba and thus don't own Death Note. I am simply playing with his toys. But shh, don't tell him…**

**X**

_Christmas Tree_

L was coming home for Christmas, and Mello couldn't have been more angry.

It had been a few years since L had officially left the orphanage, and since then he hadn't visited once. He had done a Question and Answer session once, with the others in Wammy's, but that was about it. Nothing more. It meant nothing to Mello.

He, Matt and Near had _personal_ relationships with L. He didn't even say hello during that session, which upset Near, and made Matt a bit disappointed. But Mello…

Mello was angry.

And not once after he left did he even bother to contact them. Any of them. Not even B- no, Beyond Birthday, after A died. Hell, he hadn't even talked to A, his _successor_! He had up and left, and it seemed like he had completely forgotten about him. About all of them.

Beyond ran away and _murdered_ because of L. A committed suicide because of L. Their pain was caused by L and his leaving.

So when Roger announced that L was coming "home" for Christmas, Mello was pissed.

Out of all the times he could have visited, he chose Christmas. Mello didn't even really enjoy Christmas. Dinner was about the only thing he really liked about the holiday, along with the chocolate advent calendars.

And, sadly, decorating the Christmas tree.

During the holiday, he and Matt were the ones to drag the decorations out from the attic; boxes upon boxes stacked next to the grand staircase, waiting to be placed on the twelve foot tall tree.

This year was no different. The redhead and the blonde were the first ones up in that morning, dragging the boxes from the attic and down the steps, having to take several trips to get everything.

Matt liked to decorate the top of the tree. Near, who was the smallest of the three, liked to stay towards the bottom and off the ladders, so he decorated the bottom of the tree. Mello had the perfect spot of being in between the two, covering the center of the tree.

The other children were allowed to help, but often chose not to. It was sort of a successor's tradition:once upon a time, B, A and even L himself decorated the tree each year. Now that they were all gone, Mello, Matt and Near took over, and they were the next generation to decorate the tree.

L was happy to see that they had restored this tradition as he walked into the foyer and saw them standing by the tree. Yet something seemed different about the three… They had all changed since he was last here.

Matt was a lot quieter. He didn't greet L with the bubbly personality he used to have. He was sucked into a video game, not even acknowledging him. Near didn't run up to him, ask him how he was, or hug him; he had matured, definitely, and greeted him with a hello as he continued to work on his puzzle. Mello glared at L. Glared.

Something had definitely changed.

"L." Mello snarled.

"Hello, Mello." L said calmly, nodding at the blonde. He took a step forward, so he was closer to the boys, his usual slouch apparent. "And Matt-Near."

Matt stuck his Gameboy in his pocket, and waved at L with a disinterested look on his face. "Home for the holidays-how does it feel?"

L pondered the question for a moment. "I suppose it's nice."

Mello laughed, but not out of humor. "_Nice_, is it? That's all? You've been gone for four _freaking_ years, and all you say is 'it's _nice_'?!"

By now the blonde was fuming. Had it not been for Matt placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, he would have stormed over and punched the detective in the face.

"Perhaps I should have worded that different…" L muttered.

"No, L. What you said was fine. But I can relate to Mello on this one." Near said, looking up at L from his puzzle. "You've been gone for quite a while now, and you suddenly just show up. You haven't spoken to us once since you left."

Near saying something to L was quite shocking to Mello. L and Near had the same mindset, and Near often agreed with L when it came to certain matters. Him saying something to L at all about this situation was surprising.

L was quiet. "I regret having not. I didn't plan on constantly being alone-"

"Bull." Mello said.

"Let him talk, Mello." Matt advised.

L continued. "It was one case after another. I couldn't stop them from coming at me."

"For four years," Matt stated.

"When the police assign me a case, or ask for help with a case, they don't seem to realize that I have a home to go to. Or family to see. Believe me when I say I've tried to visit." L explained.

"So what made you come this time?" The redhead asked.

"This time I sincerely needed a break. So I left with Watari and came here."

"Can we just decorate this damn thing?" Mello yelled. He was done listening to L's excuses for not coming to visit them.

"Yeah. I've been waiting all year to do this." Matt said, taking a box of lights and climbing up the ladder to get started on the tree.

Mello took his box of lights and began to climb one of the ladders to reach his section of the tree. Near simply slid his box over and crawled to his part, leaving the half finished puzzle lying at the bottom of the stairs.

The tension was a bit awkward. The three seemed to work in silence, all knowing what to do with no confusion. They all wrapped their section in the glistening lights, and when Matt finished he plugged the beginning of Mello's lights on the tree.

Then the Christmas music came on.

L had unknowingly wandered off and found a portable radio lying around, and had turned it on to listen to the music. It was better than overall silence.e

Matt began to hum along to Jingle Bell Rock, stepping down and off the ladder since he was done stringing his lights. He began to dig into another box.

And out came the Santa hats.

He placed the first hat on himself, and then one onto L's head. Mello found the whole thing a bit ridiculous. Having just finished his lights, he plugged his in to the beginning of Near's. He watched as Matt placed a hat onto the albino's head, instantly making him look more festive.

Mello climbed down the ladder and was attacked… by L. He put a hat onto Mello's head forcefully, since he knew the blonde would just take it off or throw it if he was given it.

"That was unnecessary!" Mello exclaimed.

L only laughed.

Mello shook his head as he began to take out tinsel, and threw some at Matt. Near was just finishing wrapping the tree in lights, and he crawled underneath the tree to plug the entire thing in. So far, it was looking great.

With the lights successfully on and plugged in, they began to wrap the tinsel around the tree. It was like a large, thick red ribbon with gold designs on it, yet it was called tinsel. In Mello's opinion, it made no sense.

L helped Near wrap the ribbon-tinsel around the tree, since he was getting a bit frustrated with trying to get it to stay on the tree.

"It keeps getting twisted." He huffed.

"Let me help." L said, kneeling down to finish wrapping the tree.

L highly enjoyed putting the ornaments on the tree. Je got to place ornaments right between Mello and Near, where neither of them could reach. It was the perfect spot for him.

"I know I've been gone for so long, and I'm sorry." L sighed.

The boys were silent. The only noises that could be heard was the radio and rustling of the tree. They were all thinking the same thing: should they forgive him?

"It's not your fault-" Matt began, but Mello cut him off.

"No, it is his fault. He continued to work on cases despite the fact that he knew we needed him. He tried to come back, or so he says. But did he miss us? Or did he just miss his childhood, if he even had one? That's why he wanted to come back. Not to see us, but just to feel like he had a place in the world other than the world's greatest detective." Mello ranted.

"That was harsh." Near breathed.

"No, Near. I deserve it. I left all of you. I deserve it, so please don't defend me." L admitted, looking up at Mello.

"I'm sorry, Mello."

Mello didn't respond for a few minutes. L was really apologizing. Confessing. This was what Mello had been waiting for.

"I forgive you. And if it isn't a problem, do you want to put the angel on the tree?"

L smiled. "I'd love to."


	5. Angel

**A/N: This a very depressing chapter. I was crying while writing it, and that's saying something since I'm usually only killed when I write something sad. But nope, I pretty much sobbed while writing this. This chapter focuses on A's death and mentions- actually more than mentions suicide. Poor A… And poor B… :( Also, this chapter includes A/B. Not, like, full on yaoi though. Just a pairing. I don't write full on yaoi… Anyway… Don't enjoy?**

**ALSO: I would just like to say I don't agree with romanticizing suicide. It's a serious thing that shouldn't be used in that way. I don't know if I'm exactly romanticizing it in this fic, but if I am please let me know. When reading my own text I can't distinguish what's really 'bad' or 'good'. So yeah. Please tell me if you have a problem with this.**

**Plot twist: I'm not Tsugumi Ohba. *gasps***

**X**

_Angel_

Most adults probably saw B as a troubled child when it came to others.

He was a genius, with an IQ of 211 at age seventeen. He was an addict of strawberry jam, and when asked why he liked it, he replied with an eerie grin, and said he liked the sweetness of it.

Most would find him weird if he told them the real reason why he liked it.

He scared-no, terrified- many of the younger students with his odd behaviors, which included wandering around the halls at night and staring at people. No, staring above people's heads, like something was hanging over them.

He did this before A died.

It was Christmas Eve, and the orphanage' classes were off and done for the season until January. B, of course, didn't mind this at all. He was ahead in all of his classes, and so was A, so class would have been useless if they were to continue through the holiday. Many of the other students were doing homework that they had already done; they had more than enough time on their hands thanks to this.

Often they could be seen sitting with each other, if not on top of each other, in the common room. Some of the other students found their relationship a bit weird. They had told everyone, when asked, that they were best friends, and practically brothers.

But they were so much more than that.

When they were alone, they shared kisses. Many kisses. A told B how much he loved him.

_"How much?"_ B would always ask, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

_"Almost too much for me to bear."_ A would reply before planting a soft kiss on B's lips.

A was B's angel, and he didn't know what he would do without him.

Tonight was different from most nights, however.

A's numbers had been falling since the day they met. Everyone's numbers had. Sometimes, B was frightened at how close together certain numbers were, like Matt and Mello's. Their numbers were always three off from each other, whereas Near's numbers were greater; much greater than those boy's numbers. A's numbers in the past couple of weeks, had been decreasing rapidly. They were in the triple digits...then double…

And now, they were in the single digits, which meant it was only a matter of time before A would die.

B was surrounded by death constantly, and was often curious on how they would die. Sadly this was one thing he wished he could see with his special eyes. Because of his eyes, death sometimes excited him…

But not today. Not tonight.

On this particular evening, he was holding back tears.

They were sitting in the common room, A in B's lap on the couch. B sat in a criss-cross position, his legs stuck underneath A's. The number eight sat above his head…

Eight hours…

B rested his forehead against A's, shutting his eyes tight.

"I love you so much, A." B whispered, entwining his fingers with A's.

"I love you too, B." A whispered back.

"I don't want you to leave."

"What do you mean by that?"

B stayed quiet. He couldn't tell A. What would he say anyway? _"Oh, by the way, you're going to die in eight hours."_? He couldn't just tell him.

Unless he already knew…

'No, there's no way he can know, unless he… no!'

B pulled A into a tight embrace, crying into the brunette's hair. He needed to remember everything about A; His scent, the texture of his hair, the exact color of his hazel eyes. If he was going to leave this world forever, he needed to know that he at least had his memory to rely on when he needed to remember A.

"B, what's wrong?" A coaxed.

"Nothing. I'm being stupid." B said, releasing his love from his tight grip. He looked up above A's head to see his number had changed. It now read seven.

"B, you can tell me. Something is obviously bothering you." A pushed the raven-colored bangs out of B's face.

B swooped in and underneath A, kissing him passionately. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft touch of it, eventually wrapping his arms around his neck. A returned the favor by gently stroking B's cheek with his thumb, and wrapping his other arm around his waist.

A pulled away, gasping for air. He wiped the tears from B's eyes, and stared into his crimson pools.

"You'll be okay. I promise."

B shook his head. "No, I won't, A. I won't be 'okay'. If you leave, I do too."

"Don't you ever say that again." A said harshly. "You have to stay. Stay for me. Please, whatever you do, don't blame yourself; and don't leave because of me." A gripped B's hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

"I won't be able to do it, A."

"B, it's my time. I can't do it anymore."

"Then at least spend the night with me."

"I will."

B grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and snuggled with A. He knew that neither of them would sleep that night, but he needed to know that he at least had A for a little while longer. He laid on this inside of the couch, his arm around A.

It had been an hour and his number had gone down to six.

B held A's hand tight, occasionally kissing his cheek whenever he felt the need to. If he wasn't mumbling "_I love you"_ to A, he was looking at the fire ablaze in the stone fireplace.

Maybe that was how A was going to die: by an inferno.

At some point, B accidentally fell into a dreamless sleep. A void, filled with darkness, for about five or six hours.

He awoke with a start. The place where A was was cold; he wasn't by his side. The fire was out, extinguished hours ago by someone.

Panicking, B nearly jumped off the couch and ran into A's dorm.

He felt his heart break and eyes well up at the sight of A, who was lying on the floor holding a note.

'_No, no, no!_'

B looked above A's head to see his numbers.

There were no numbers.

His angel had fallen.


	6. Pie

**A/N: I'm not very pleased with this fic, to be honest. I had no idea what to write for this prompt, and this was all I could come up with, so sorry if it sucks. Literally all I could think about for this fic was Dean Winchester… :/ **

**Reviews and follows appreciated...is anyone even reading this fic? Just curious…**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Tsugumi Ohba, and thus do not own Death Note.**

**X**

_Pie_

To put it bluntly, Roger's pies sucked.

When you had a pie, it was supposed to be…sweet, and sometimes gooey, and warm. It wasn't supposed to be cold, or hard, or unbaked.

Roger's pies were all of these things, sadly. But at least he tried, for the sake of his contribution towards Christmas dinner.

Matt, for these reasons, would never eat anyone else's pies, except for Mello's.

Mello could bake, that was for sure. He hated to admit it, however, as well as his love for baking, as it only added on to his… 'feminine' traits. He _wasn't_ a girl, and became very angry whenever he was asked if he was, or told that he was, which is was Matt liked to do.

Matt just liked getting a reaction out of the blonde. It was quite funny actually, until Mello raised a fist threateningly to his face. Mello would never hurt him, but if really wanted to, at least he had the skill to.

Right, back to Mello's pies.

Mello made surprisingly amazing pies. Apple pies, pumpkin pies, meringue pies. They were always different depending on the season. In the summer, he made no bake strawberry pies, and in the fall he made a typical apple pie. He always made one for the holidays, and instead of cake for Matt's birthday, he made a pie.

The first time Matt had tried one of Mello's pies was a few days after he had arrived at the orphanage, only days before Christmas Eve. It was a pecan pie, and he fell in love with it the moment it had landed on his tongue. Yet he couldn't tell the blonde how wonderful it was, since he had just came from his homeland of Austria and knew very little English. So the little redhead simply smiled at the blonde and continued eating his small slice of pie.

This was one of his happier memories as a child.

How the _hell_ did Mello make his pies so damn delicious? Seriously? If, given the option, Matt could eat his pies all year round, he would. He had a slight addiction to them.

By slight, he meant that his addiction to Mello's pies was the equivalent of L's addiction to candy, except for the fact that he didn't need it to function. But his pies did put him in a more enthusiastic mood than usual, so maybe he did need them.

Every Christmas, Mello made a different pie. A few years previous he had made a blueberry pie, that was very sweet and definitely made the other children question where the pie came from. Last year he had made a key lime pie, and that pie was by far Matt's favorite.

This year, however, there would be no pie.

In November, when Mello was told that L had died, he had snapped. He had told Roger he was leaving for America, and that was that.

Matt remembered how Mello had stormed up and into their room, packing the little things he had. He made no eye contact with Matt, and ignored him completely. When he had finished packing, he slammed open the door and left, just like that. He left Matt without saying goodbye.

He left without saying '_I love you' _one last time.

The blonde had been gone for almost two whole months now, and had left Matt in a state of sadness and hopelessness. Everyday, he wished that Mello would come back. And maybe, someone, _something_ would hear him, and make his wish come true.

Mello never came home after each day of hoping. He had not attempted to contact the redhead whatsoever; no letters, no emails, or even an attempt to hack Matt's computer (which he did more often than not). Matt had tried everything to contact Mello-he tried finding his location, and what flight he took as well. But nothing showed up. He was completely untraceable, like a ghost. It was like he was never even there.

The blonde's bed still remained in the room. It was left unmade, just how he had left it the day he fled. His corner was cluttered, his homework on his dresser and his books knocked off the edge of his bed. The covers still smelled like him; sweet, like apples.

Matt missed Mello so much.

Matt knew Mello wasn't going to come back anytime soon. No, he wasn't going to return at all. The question was, where was he?

The redhead was so saddened by Mello's sudden dispensation that he didn't even play his video games. He wouldn't touch his computer and was falling behind in his classes. He was doing nothing with himself, and it was ruining his life.

It was Christmas day, and Matt was more depressed today than he ever had been. This was his favorite holiday, and he couldn't even enjoy it, because _the love of his life was gone!_

That morning, he had woken up and trudged down the hallway and down the stairs. He was not looking forward at all, and couldn't have cared less that is was a holiday. He just wanted to lay in bed, and stare at the empty corner that used to be where his Mello resided.

The other children were already out of their rooms and sitting on the floor, unwrapping the gifts they had exchanged with each other. There weren't a whole lot of gifts under the tree, and each child only got one to three gifts during Christmas; they were given to each other, as it should be. That was how it worked at Wammy's. Children gave their friends gifts and were not to be spoiled rotten. As friends only exchanged gifts, Matt wasn't expecting anything, since Mello was his only friend.

And he was gone.

Just as Matt was about to head back upstairs, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Near, who was holding a square package in two hands.

"This came in the mail this morning." The albino said, handing Matt the package.

Matt, curious as to who it was from, began to tear open the wrappings.

It was a pie.

Matt nearly had a heart attack. He was shocked; maybe Roger had ordered him one…

But no. It had a tag on it.

"_I'm sorry, Matt." _ Was written on the tag.

That was the last time Matt received a pie from Mello.


	7. Tinsel

**A/N: Ugh, yet another late chapter that sucks. I'm sorry… I had no ideas for this prompt either. I also don't know if I'll be getting today's (technically yesterday's) fic uploaded, so that will just put me another day behind. Sigh… anyway, hope you like this one. It kind of explores Near's past, but just a little bit.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Tsugumi Ohba. Sorry. (Although, that'd be pretty cool.)**

**X**

_Tinsel_

Near hated tinsel and everything to do with it.

He hated every type of tinsel: pine, ribbon, and especially the type that almost sparkled when the light hit it right.

It annoyed him, to say the least. It was _everywhere_ in Wammy's during Christmas. It decorated the rails, the doorways, even the borders of the chalkboards in the classroom. He could not stand it!

There was no reason that Near hated tinsel. He just disliked it. It wasn't his taste whatsoever. The ribbon-tinsel on the tree looked nice, but everywhere else was _slightly_ ridiculous, and made the house look a bit too festive (although, some of the other children begged to differ; if anything, they thought the house need more decorations).

In total, Wammy's House had 236 long strands of tinsel strewn up. Near had counted, and the realization of how much tinsel was really in the house dawned on him-and annoyed him very much.

So Near hated tinsel. That was that. No, there had to be more. It can't just end there! There had to be at least one reason Near hated tinsel, and he would search to find it. He would not take no reason to hate tinsel. He kept telling himself there _had_ to be. If his hatred was irrational, then that would be absurd. Other children had rational reasons to hate things, or fear things. For example, Matt hated snakes ever since they had gone on a school field trip and a snake began to slither up his pants. His reaction was quite funny, but in all seriousness; he hated snakes for that reason. So what was Near's for hating tinsel?

Near sighed as he curled himself into a ball onto his bed, a puzzle in front of him, trying to think back before he had come to Wammy's. He never actually celebrated Christmas, come to think of it. His old family-the one that had left him on the streets- didn't have a Christmas tree, nor dinner. Nothing. They simply treated it as a normal day. Perhaps they didn't celebrate anything.

He thought of his old family and their old lifestyles. Did they believe in anything? Maybe not… they could have been atheists, or… No, it didn't matter. That was beside the point. Tinsel, tinsel, tinsel.

The albino had stopped trying to complete his puzzle. He was too lost in unimportant thoughts. Roots… he had to think roots. When had he first seen tinsel?

Maybe he had seen it when he was a toddler... no, he had seen tinsel later. But it was still before Wammy's. It had to be.

He was five when he first came to Wammy's, so he had to have been around that age or four when he first saw tinsel. _But where?_, was the question. It had not been in his home-why would he had decorations in his home? He didn't remember there being any- nor a store; his family never took him outside the house. Odd, but it didn't matter now.

So he _had_ to have seen it at Wammy's then.

But _why_ did he hate tinsel? Did he happen to have had an experience with tinsel that he had long forgotten about? Had the memory been washes away with newer, fresher, more important ones? He needed to know why he hated tinsel. That was another reason why he was often compared o L; he needed to know _everything_, whether it be just a random fact or something extremely important, like who a murderer was in a case. He had to think of this like a case; what had caused this?

Frustrated, the white-haired boy began to twirl his hair around his index finger.

Tinsel...tinsel…why was this even important to him? Was he really that bored, that he had created this entire 'case' for himself to solve? Was he honestly deeply pondering why he hated tinsel-a seasonal thing-so much? He could have been doing something more productive, such as homework...but he had already finished it.

Damn it.

Maybe looking at tinsel would help him figure out the reason for his undying hatred for it. Near stood up, momentarily going blind from sitting in the same position for so long. Recovering from his head rush, he opened the door to the hall and began to walk down to the end, taking a seat in the middle of the floor. A strand of silvery tinsel hung askew on the side of a small table, that served for no other purpose than home decor.

Back to thinking about tinsel…

He must have seen when he first came to Wammy's. With that much figured out, how old had he been?

_Five, at least, if not four. It was first year of celebrating a holiday, Christmas, and he didn't quite understand what it was, but everyone else seemed excited._

But there was no tinsel in that memory. There was something missing.

Near mentally went over what ways it annoyed him. How it was everywhere, how everyone thought there wasn't enough, how itchy it felt…

_Oh._

How did he get that memory? How did he know what tinsel felt like? Surely he had to have been in some situation where he had felt tinsel across his face, and his hands, and his arms…

Wait. He was feeling that now!

Matt and Mello were wrapping him in long strands of tinsel, having started with his torso and had just began to wrap it around his arms when Near noticed what they were doing.

How the _hell_ had he forgotten about this? It was one of those things they did yearly to him, on this day, without his consent whatsoever. He didn't enjoy it, but now he remembered.

This was how the three had properly met all those years ago.

_Nate River-Near, he was Near now- was only five years old. He was a quiet little boy, who always minded his own business, never got in anyone's way, and never did anything remotely annoying. He was just there, and didn't often socialize with the other children. He found no need to though. _

_At the time, he had been focusing on a rather difficult puzzle. He occasionally glanced up at the wall, or at the door, to give his eyes a rest from staring at the small pieces, and to come back into reality a bit. _

_He had seen the blonde and the redhead a few times before. In class, during dinner, and in the corridors. They were at least a year older than he was, and from what he'd heard had come there at about the same time he had. He hadn't paid any attention to that little fact, but he still found it interesting how the two had become friends almost instantly, whereas he didn't have...well, any. But he didn't mind being alone._

_It was on one fateful day-December seventh-that the little white-haired boy was cornered in the rec room by the two older boys, and wrapped in tinsel. It could have been considered bullying, but he was too young to realize it, and by the end of it he hadn't really cared._

_Well, maybe a bit._

_He laid limp as they wrapped him up loosely in the tinsel, mummifying him until he looked like a small, glittery ball of...something. It was very irritating, the feeling of the little bristles on his skin, and even more irritating that the two were toppled over laughing while he, with every move he made, caused him to itch._

_He didn't show his agitation as he was dragged along with the two other boys to Roger Ruvie's office, who was also annoyed and angry-as usual._

_Sitting in the chair wasn't a pleasant experience, as Near was still wrapped in the tinsel. He attempted to stay as still as possible, but even that wasn't helping._

_Near had been asked if he was hurt, to which he replied with no. He said he didn't really care, and that in the event he had been injured while doing it, he would have most likely stated it already. All he needed was an apology, and for the tinsel to be removed from him._

_The blonde boy-whose name was Mello- apologized first, with a slight roll of his eyes. The second boy, whom Near assumed was Matt, also apologized. _

_They thankfully had unwrapped Near, as their punishment, and also introduced themselves to him. That was the day they had met._

From that, they had made it a yearly ritual. Near didn't hate Matt or Mello-they were as close to him as brothers, in his mind, and he found it very considerate that they actually remembered the date of which that occurred, and made sure they did it every year. It made it more special. But he still hated tinsel, no matter what.

No, hate was an understatement.

Near _loathed _tinsel.


	8. Ice Skating

**A/N: This is a late fic, and it's kind of bad… I was rushing to get it done with, so I'm sorry if it's a bit fast paced and there isn't much dialogue. Eh. But uhm… ice skating. I've never actually been, lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Also, kind of random, but… imagine Morgan Freeman narrating your fics as you write them. Just imagine. IT MAKES WRITING TEN TIMES BETTER. Also this fic was kind of inspired by Danisnotonfire because I was binge watching his videos before writing it, so yeah… Definition of a cringe attack: Reminiscing a cringe-worthy moment life spontaneously during the day and physically cringing once out of that memory. Basically.**

**Disclaimer: Well… It's a disclaimer for a reason.**

**X**

_Ice Skating_

L didn't want to go ice skating at all.

He had let B and A get to him. Of course he had. They kept telling him he wouldn't fall (that much, anyway), and that he'd have fun. They also complained that he needed to get out of the house more (which, of course, he tried, but having the social skills equivalent of a giraffe made situations horribly awkward and unpleasant).

So, of course, he gave in to their reassurances. They always did this. The worst part about it was the fact that they used the same excuses every. Single. Time. And every time, L agreed to join in their shenanigans or activities, doing so regretfully. A and B were the cause of many of his cringe-worthy and embarrassing moments; these moments often led him to his immediate retreat to his bedroom after the incident, rocking back and forth on his bed for a good ten minutes, or cause him to have a cringe attack at a random moment of the day. It was awful.

Today's activity would most likely lead to the inevitability of embarrassing himself in the most horrible way possible, and cause him to smack himself in the head later on while whispering idiot.

A and B thought it would be an excellent idea to go ice skating. The weather conditions were perfect, and the ice was frozen enough that they could stand on it without falling through. B had A stand on it, just to make sure; it was a good thing he didn't care about the possibility of getting hypothermia if the ice cracked.

It was, however, very cold outside, the temperature below zero degrees Celsius, which meant the three had to bundle up quite a bit. L wasn't too pleased about this, since the only winter coat he had was useless when it came to keeping him warm. He preferred not freezing to death, and would have rathered stayed inside near the warm fireplace, plopping small candies into his mouth, which he had been doing earlier until they had came along and ruined his solitude.

Currently, he was walking in between A and B. They were carrying their skates by the laces, the shoe slung over their shoulders and hitting their backs with every step. L carried his in his hand by the heel, examining them. They seemed interesting enough.

Where they were going, L did not know. The one time he didn't know something, and he wished they would simply tell him. He assumed they were going to a lake, or a pond of some sort. They seemed to have been dragging him through the woods for at least ten minutes now.

Another thing L did not know about: the pond. He had been at Wammy's since he was six, and he didn't even know such a place existed. Surely Quillish Wammy would have brought him here at some point in his life. Yet he hadn't. Then again, L had never been too keen about exploring the outdoors, or sports of any kind, including ice skating.

So why exactly he had agreed to this, he did not know. But he wanted out. He wanted to walk back into Wammy's and get back under the warmth of his comfortable blanket, where he didn't have to talk to anyone. Or embarrass himself.

Perhaps this was A and B's special place. He knew they had a...thing, for each other, and they obviously knew the place well. It was a possibility that they had came here in the Summer before, which would explain how they knew about this place so much.

"L, get your skates on!" Shouted A, who was seated in the wet snow near the pond, putting on his skates. B already had his skates on, and was ready to get on the ice.

"I… would rather not." L replied, hesitant to take a seat.

"You'll never know how it is if you don't try it!" B smirked, sliding onto the ice with a wobble. It had been a while since he had been ice skating, but he evened out fairly quickly.

"I'll wait for you if you want." A said, his British accent prominent at the moment.

L had absolutely no experience with ice skating, and honestly didn't want to make a fool of himself. What B said was true though; he wouldn't know what it was like unless he tried.

So he did.

The raven-haired teen sat down in the cold snow, his jeans instantly soaked. He took off his rugged snow boots and put the narrow shoe on. They were oddly heavy despite their look. He laced the boot up and double knotted them, so he wouldn't fall and crash onto the ice. L had doubts that this would help, but it was only a precaution anyway.

This was when chaos began to ensue.

L had ignored A's comment, and pushed himself far enough to the edge of the pond that he accidentally skidded onto the ice. He was in his crouch position, trying very hard to balance, and narrowly avoiding B.

"Look at that, he finally made it." B said smugly, circling L and taking his hand. "Don't be afraid, if you fall I'm right here."

"Thank you for your concern, but I won't fall." L said, gripping B's hand and slowly standing up.

He could feel his feet begin to wobble underneath him. They wanted to glide across the ice with B, who was slowly dragging him, but his body did not.

This resulted him falling backwards and onto his arse.

He had taken B down with him as well, but dragging him down wouldn't have mattered; B was laughing so hard that he probably would have fallen over on his own. A was trying not to die of laughter as he skated over to the two lying on the ice.

"Can I try again?" He innocently asked, attempting to hide his now red cheeks.

"How about I take you this time. B isn't very helpful when it comes to teaching people things…"

"At least I tried." B pointed out, shrugging as he stood up own his own. How did he make it look so easy?

A grabbed both of L's hands this time, and began to skate backwards as he guided L around the pond, instructing him.

"You sort of want to slide your feet. Pick your foot up and glide it backwards, but don't dig it into the ice. That won't do you any good." A said.

L did as he was told, and almost fell into A.

"Good," said the brunette, "now do it with the other foot."

So L slid his other foot.

He seemed to get it after practicing for a little while, which made A grin. At least he was getting it. It was time that he did it on his own.

"I think you should try skating by yourself."

So A let go.

He was finding it extremely hard to balance on the single-bladed skates, and as soon as A had let go of his pale hands, he fell again, this time on his face.

The impact of his cheek against the ice hurt a ton. He groaned in pain, his cheeks burning pink as he crawled to the edge of the pond and onto the snow.

"Are you alright?" asked, trying to hold back a grin. No, laughter. B, on the other hand, was laughing so hard that he began to choke on his own spit.

"I think I'm just going to stay off the ice for now." L said, rubbing his sore cheek.

"Suit yourself." A shrugged, his grin finally growing fully on his face as he skated away from L.

At least he tried.

And he was never going to try again.


	9. Frost

**A/N: Yay, cute chibi L and B! I was very excited to write this as me and a good friend had been discussing one little cute scene between L and BB as fetuses. So, without further ado, I present… little L and B!**

**Disclaimer: Well, if I were Tsugumi Ohba, L WOULD STILL BE FREAKING ALIVE. *sobs in the corner for ever and ever***

**X**

_Frost_

When B woke up, he saw frost on his window.

There had been a few times where he had frost on his window in Japan, where he first lived, and once or twice he had seen flurries of snow drift from the sky. A blizzard, though-where feet upon feet of snow was piled on the ground-was something he'd never seen before, so of course the six year old was going to get excited about frost.

Frost was just a buildup of ice crystals on a surface, but B knew that frost only occurred when the temperature was below freezing. Snow also occurred when the temperature was below freezing. And, with dark clouds he saw rolling in, there was a chance that it would snow!

B smiled at this fact. No, he grinned. He was excited. It was finally going to snow, and he'd be able to see it, and play in it, and actually experience extremely cold temperature for the first real time. He could make a… what were they called? Oh, yes, a snowman! With a carrot for a nose, and button eyes, and two twigs for arms. Maybe he'd spare a jar of jam for decoration.

B decided to examine the frost further, and got up close to his window, which sat above his bed. The frost made a spider web pattern, splaying across the corner of the window and around the edges. It was pretty in a way that it had done this on its own.

He needed to show L.

The six year old smiled to himself again as he jumped off his bed and opened the door, running to L's room.

"Lawlipop, wake up!" B said in a singsong voice, knocking on L's door.

Lawlipop was B's special nickname for L; L Lawliet. His Lawlipop. L was a bit fazed at first. How had this young child figure out his name? It was a bit eerie and mysterious, but he had grown accustomed to the nickname. Actually, he quite liked it. B only ever used it when they were alone, which he supposed was good. He couldn't tell the other children his name. Only B.

"Lawlipop…" B huffed a breath of air, twisting the tall doorknob to get into his room.

L was still sleeping. Usually when B walked into his room, he was wide awake, either reading or doing something worthwhile. But he was sleeping. Actually sleeping! Was he okay? Maybe he was sick. _Oh, that would be terrible,_ B thought as he placed a hand to L's forehead. He wasn't warm, so at least e wasn't sick.

"Lawli, you're sleeping." B whispered in L's ear.

The raven-haired boy in the bed began to shift, turning to face the opposite direction-away from B.

"Lawlipop, get up!" Said B, who was losing his temper with the eight year old who wouldn't get out of bed. He did the only reasonable thing that was left to get him out of bed-he tore the comforter off of him.

L immediately sat up, having been affected by the cold that brushed his skin. He shot B a glare, and B giggled.

"What is it, B? L sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. B did the same after flipping himself onto the bed. In truth, it frightened the few other children in the orphanage how much the two looked alike. The only differences between them were the color of their eyes-L with grey, B with red-and L's eye bags, which were not as bad as they would eventually get (however, he still looked like a panda; B found it kind of cute.)

B pointed at the window. "Look."

So L looked. There was frost on the window. "Yes, B that is frost. Is that all you wanted to tell me?" He said sarcastically.

"I know what frost is. But that means it's cold outside!"

"And..?"

"For a genius, you really can be a bit numb." B muttered under his breath. "That means it's going to snow!"

L perked up at the word. "Snow?"

B nodded frantically. "Yes! Don't you see the clouds?"

L had apparently not seen the clouds outside, rolling in from the distance. He looked up at the sky and sure enough, deep, dark clouds were coming their way.

"Can we wait and watch the snow come?" B asked.

"I suppose we can." L replied, rubbing his eyes. He was still a bit tired, having only gotten four hours of sleep. His bed was just begging him to return to his slumber, but he didn't want to make B upset. If B got upset, it was suddenly the end of the world. He wouldn't talk to anyone, or eat any jam. He stayed in his room and wouldn't come out for at least an hour. It was horrible.

"Why don't we eat first?" L asked, though it sounded like more of a demand than a question.

"Can we eat up here?" asked the chibi B, who looked at L with pleading eyes.

"Mmm...Yes, but we must not get caught." L responded, taking B's hand and dragging him off the bed.

L had apparently never put his pajamas on the night before, because he was already in his usual white long sleeve and worn out blue jeans. He continued to hold B's hand as they walked down to the kitchen, which seemed to be miles away.

Finally, they had made it to the kitchen. The two raven-haired boys began to stock up on food, planning to spend the day in L's room. B held many jars of jam under his shirt, and L had a tray with assorted sweets, fruits, pastries, and the best of all, cake. L loved cake. His favorite flavor was strawberry, just like B's favorite jam.

They practically ran up the stairs and into L's room, slamming the door shut. Had they been caught by Roger or Wammy, they would have been scolded quite a lot for their bad behavior, and punished; which meant no more jam or cake for a while.

"And now, we wait!" B declared, setting down his jars of jam on L's desk, which sat right next to his bed.

"Based on my deductions, it should begin to snow in about… two hours. Three at the most." L said through a mouthful of cake.

So they waited. And waited. An hour had passed and B was growing bored. In the hour, he had consumed only one jar of jam, and tried to talk to L. But he wasn't listening. Was he even watching? Probably not. He was staring outside, but he wasn't watching the clouds, or the frost, which was slowly fading. Or, maybe he was watching. B couldn't tell if he was lost in thought or not.

"B, can I have some jam?"

"Why?" B asked. He didn't like to share his jam. But then again, this was Lawlipop.

"I wanted to try a little bit."

"I...guess you can, if you really want some." B reluctantly grabbed a new jar of jam off the desk and unscrewed the tight lid. The smell of sweetness invaded his nose, swirling in his head. He didn't give the jar to L, but held it out so he could scoop some off the edge with his fingers.

L didn't do that however. He took the lollipop he was sucking on and dipped it straight into the jar of jam.

"Hey!" B yelled, but it was much too late to do anything. L had already licked all of the jam from his candy, and was going for another dip, but B beat him to it; he pulled the jar away fast and scooped an enormous glob into his hand, eating it all in one gulp.

"That was very good, B. Now may I please have some more?" L asked, staring at the jam.

"No, you can't have anymore." B said, screwing the cap back onto the jam and licking his lips.

L pouted., then set down his lollipop. What was he-?

**Smack.**

L had hit B with his pillow and sent the younger boy flying across the bed. B, now a bit angry, picked up the second pillow and began to attack L with it. All was forgotten about the snow and the frost, as the two's pillow fight continued.

_L wished he could still have days like this, when he could forget everything and do something relaxing for a change._

_But that was not how the world worked for him anymore. He didn't even have B anymore. So much had changed in the last decade, and he wished it could go back to the way it was. He missed those days._

_He missed that frost._

_He missed B._


	10. Eggnog

**A/N: Chapter ten, alright! I honestly can't believe I've written this much and have actually stuck to this. So, uhm, yeah. That's pretty cool! Thank you to those who have read this thing and reviewed, and favorited. It seriously means so much to me. There are more stories to come, so this isn't ending. It's just a humongous thank you! :D**

**Also, I tried eggnog for this fic to be accurate with the description and for the purpose of trying it. It. Was. Disgusting. So remember, I DID THIS FOR YOU. Just kidding…well, I sort of did. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to you guys. Thank you! 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any recognizable content. **

**X**

_Eggnog_

Surprisingly, Mello liked eggnog.

Out of all holiday drinks he could have loved-such as hot chocolate, or cider-he chose eggnog as his favorite. Hot chocolate was good, but often tasted too powdery for his liking; something you wouldn't expect from a chocoholic.

Perhaps it was the overall creaminess of it. It was smooth, just like chocolate. That could have been a contributing reason he liked it. It was rich as well, and quite filling after a few sips.

Matt, on the other hand, was unwilling to try it. Just the coloring of the heavy liquid made him nauseous. There was no way he would try the drink, ever. He wouldn't like it, and he had settled on that decision. No eggnog for him! Just him, his goggles, and his video games.

And maybe Mello.

Matt knew Mello liked eggnog very much. He also knew how convincing he could be. He had not gotten the redhead to try eggnog, nor had he thought about it yet, but Matt had a really bad feeling about this year. The blonde's curiosity was bound to strike sometime, and it was a possibility that it would happen soon.

The teens were sitting on the couch, Mello's arm draped over Matt's shoulders. They had been together for a while, and thankfully nobody seemed to mind their relationship. Actually, some of the other children around their age found it quite adorable. They could tell Mello and Matt were in love with each other; the way they stole glances at each other, the way they made eye contact from across the room. Sometimes Mello even flirted with Matt while sitting in the rec or common room. They kissed, embraced, but promised to not take it any further just yet. They were far too young for that yet.

Mello liked watching Matt play his video games. He liked watching as his fingers moved around the buttons at a fast pace, and how his moves were strategic in the game. It sharpened his observance skills, as he noticed everything happening around the screen. Matt was definitely a professional gamer.

Anyway…

Mello was doing this. Watching Matt play, that is. He was watching as the redhead (who was wearing his orange-tinted goggles as he stared at the screen) as he moved his avatar around the small screen, battling other poorly programmed avatars. "Get him Matt, get him." Mello whispered into his ear encouragingly.

Matt smiled and paused his game. "Stop distracting me." he said teasingly, poking at the blonde's nose.

Mello scrunched his face up at the touch. "I will never stop distracting you, Matt."

Matt rolled his eyes, setting his Gameboy down on the cushion and lying in the nook of Mello's neck.

"Does my little Matt miss his Mello?" the blonde whispered softly.

"No, you're little Matt just didn't get enough rest last night."

"Oh, wah," Mello said facetiously.

Mello began to drift into thought. Just thinking, about everything: especially Matt. That was when he asked himself an important question-the question Matt had been dreading him to think.

Had Matt ever tried eggnog?

It was sweet, so maybe he would like it. Who didn't like a little bit of sweetness?

Mello grinned to himself as he pulled the redhead off of him. "I have an idea."

Oh, shit.

When Mello got an idea, it usually ended in amazing success, or failure, which made the blonde angry. If it had failed, they were yelled at by Roger, who was a jerk. They were good _ideas_. Putting them into action, however, was a different story.

Which meant this was either going to be great, or going to be horrible.

"What is it?" Matt asked slowly, a look of concern on his face.

Mello's grin only widened. "It's a surprise."

Mello took Matt's hand and dragged him to the kitchen. What could he do to make Matt drink it? It would be best if he simply gave a glass of eggnog to him. Nothing elaborate. This didn't have to be a big plan. But...what if he refused? Mello could always cut off his kisses. That would be enough for the redhead to take at least a sip of it.

The two boys stood in the dining room, in front of the oak door to the kitchen. "You stay right here," Mello said, leaving Matt alone in the room.

The worst thing was that Matt knew exactly what the blonde was doing, and it was making him feel nervous. He did _not_ want to try it at all. He wanted to do the complete opposite, actually. He could always try to deny Mello. Matt laughed at this thought; there was no way he could just tell Mello no and be safe.

Matt sighed. There was no getting out of this.

Mello walked out of the kitchen, a small glass filled with off-white liquid in his hand. It had little specks of brown mixed in, and Matt didn't even want to think of what they could possibly be.

"Try it." Mello said, handing Matt the glass.

"Eff no!" Matt replied.

"Just do it."

"I don't want to, thanks."

Mello was beginning to grow impatient. "Just take a damn sip!"

Sighing, Matt reluctantly took the glass. "It won't kill me, right?"

"Matt, just drink it!"

The redhead stopped talking and began to raise the glass hesitantly to his lips.

The drink seeped through his mouth and landed on his tongue. He nearly spat the drink back into the glass. It tasted of nutmeg and...not milk, but something creamy. Creamy eggs? Hello no, he wanted to spit this out _now_. He swallowed the drink, gritting his teeth together as it went down his throat.

"So?" Mello asked. "Do you like eggnog?"

"That...was...revolting." Matt shuddered, setting the glass down forcefully on the table.

"So you wouldn't want to try it again?" Mello said, his voice flirtatious.

"No!" Matt exclaimed.

"Then will you share it with me?" Mello asked, taking a few steps further. Matt wasn't able to respond, as Mello had already pressed his soft lips against the redhead's own.

Mello tasted like chocolate and a little bit of mint. As the kiss deepened, the aftertaste of the eggnog disappeared; so did everything around them.

Mello pulled away from Matt, a smile on his face.

Matt didn't regret trying the eggnog; it was a good thing he didn't pull out. He wouldn't have earned this if he hadn't.

But he could now officially say he hated eggnog, no matter what.


	11. Cider

**A/N: I'm typing this really fast because I have a friend coming over AHHHHHH anyways sorry if this sucks. I tried cooperating with the prompt but it was like "I hate you and I'm not going to give you any good ideas" so this is what I came up with okay also this chapter has alcohol in it and mentions of drugs so yeah ENJOY MY LOVELIES. **

**Also I've never had any alcohol before or done drugs so yeah DON'T DO DRUGS KIDS AND DON'T GET DRUNK UNTIL YOU'RE ALLOWED TO THIS FIC IS BASICALLY A BAD INFLUENCE...DON'T DO ANY OF THIS.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Death Note.**

**X**

_Cider_

Roger Ruvie didn't allow any alcohol in the orphanage whatsoever.

There was good reason for it, as many of the older teens who were still going through adolescence liked to...experiment. It was completely normal for a teen to do this, to want to try new things, and to do those things behind other's backs. Roger had done so when he was a teenager: he had snuck out to house parties, got drunk… he knew what they were thinking.

These teens, though, were a nuisance. They outsmarted him more times than he could count. They were able to get away with almost anything, and not because they were sneaky-it was because they were fucking _smart_.

Like the time Roger had found drugs in Matt's room once. He wasn't able to prove Matt was doing the drugs; the little shit had wiped all finger prints off the baggies, and off the windowsill, flushed his system of the drug entirely, and had replaced the white powder with sugar. Even though Roger couldn't prove that Matt was doing drugs, he knew by the redhead's smirk that he had done them, and succeeded.

Roger should have known better than to have set those rules. It would only increase the probability of of them doing what they weren't supposed to, which meant more trouble for Roger. It was horrible, and stressed the older man quite a bit.

The teens had always done this and especially took advantage of the holidays to do so. There had been many times during the season that Roger caught alcohol in the orphanage, but there was one pair of teens who Roger could never pinpoint getting alcohol. He knew they had it, but...how?

These teens were A and B.

The two said they were going out for the day to go Christmas shopping. Believable, of course. They were going to get gifts for Matt, Near, and Mello; they were like little brothers, after all.

(Wrong. Actually, B _hated_ Mello. Near was okay, Matt...was Matt. But Mello… He just didn't like that kid. The feeling was mutual.)

So the two went out, of course. They took their money that they had been saving up since the beginning of Summer and went out to London, taking a cab out of Winchester. They paid the cabbie a fair amount of money, and walked the rest of the way to a supermarket.

The first thing they would need was bottles of cider.

Whenever they went into public places (such as the supermarket), they would get strange looks. They were very awkward, and out of place, but they didn't seem to mind. B did set off customers with his demeanour, however, and it was a bit annoying. He wasn't that creepy. At least, he tried not to be.

The two ran up and down the aisles, searching for the cider. It was quite fun, really, but they were making a bit of a ruckus, and were asked to quiet down.

They snickered at this.

B had luckily found the cider on a display in the back of the store, and was told by A to get three bottles. It was sparkling cider, which was the best kind they could have asked for; the bottle was tinted enough that you couldn't see what color the liquid was, and you could barely see it because of the label wrapped around it.

A had found the alcohol aisle and began looking at the many different types of alcohol. There was brandy, beer, rum. Personally, A liked wine because of the lightness of it. B, however, loved vodka. Last year he had accidentally gotten very drunk off of it, and it was funny as _hell_ to watch him drunk. The next morning he was obviously hungover, and in a very bad mood, but A thought it was worth it. It was amusing.

Wine, vodka, and...why not whiskey? A grinned as he grabbed the alcohol off of the shelf and began to move towards the front of the store. He met B at the register, who had the three cider bottles in his hand.

Now, how were two seventeen year olds going to purchase alcohol? They were underage, they would be denied. Maybe even arrested….

The night before, though, A had made fake ID's that were to be destroyed after they used them. They were very realistic, B was impressed. The ID's had aliases on them, of course, and had the legal age to purchase alcohol printed onto them.

They were successfully able to buy the alcohol and the cider.

They stopped in Trafalgar Square for an hour to get rid of the drinks. They didn't want to look suspicious while doing it. The brunette and raven drank one and a half bottles of the sparkling cider, dared a stranger to drink the other half (which he did so almost sickenly for five pounds), and dumped the other bottle out in an alley, where they finalized their plan.

They took out the alcohol and opened the bottles, pouring one bottle into each empty cider bottle. B wiped the now-empty alcohol bottles of fingerprints, as well as the receipt, and disposed of them in the dumpster placed in the alley. A made the bottles of 'cider' look like they hadn't been tampered with, placing the cork in tightly and wrapping the foil on the top perfectly. It looked like a new bottle of cider.

They placed the bottles back into the paper bag and walked into a little shop in the square, buying three items-a cheap headset for Matt, a load of chocolate for Mello, and a puzzle for Near-to put into the boxes and wrapping paper they also bought in the shop. Outside, they put the alcohol in the box, wrapped it up, then paid for another cab to drive them back to the orphanage.

They nearly ran into A's room, throwing Roger the receipt-another rule; they had to give every receipt to the man in charge. In the room, B carefully undid the wrapping job, opened the box slightly, and took out the bottles of alcohol, placing a gift in each box. He wrapped it back up again, stuck a nametag on the box, then ran downstairs to place the presents under the tree.

Once he made it back upstairs, the drinking began.

There plan had worked. It all went perfectly. It was a simple plan, in their heads, and Roger would never catch them. Once they were finished with the alcohol, they had washed the bottles out, wiped them of any fingerprints, and threw the bottles in the dumpster outside; all while they were drunk.

The next day they were hungover, but the boys passed it off as a stomach bug. Roger didn't seem to notice, and he never caught them. He even saw the cider bottles in the trash, but didn't question the two.

Roger never knew how helpful cider could be.


	12. Peppermint

**A/N: Crap, a really late fic! This was originally supposed to be posted Sunday but I had a really bad headache that wouldn't go away. Sunday was supposed to be my catch up day... But yeah, funny story, I ate a piece of chocolate and twenty minutes later IT FREAKING WENT AWAY. So apparently I now have chocolate withdrawals. 0.o I wonder if Mello had chocolate withdrawals. **

**Anyway... enjoy the fic!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, but I do own a death note. xD**

**X**

_Peppermint_

All of the peppermint candies were going missing, and everyone was losing their minds over it.

Peppermint was a favored treat among the children in Wammy's. So when the candies began going missing, the entire orphanage was sent into chaos; children were taking as many candies as they could to hide, only to wake up and find their stockpile missing. Trails of wrappers were found in the corridors, and the children began to think that others were taking the candies for their own. This resulted in many fights. No wrappers were found in the room either. It was all very strange.

Someone had to figure this out-who was taking these candies.

That person would be Mello.

Mello's first 'case'. He was only eight, but he _would_ figure this out. He had to. Who else would do it? Well, Near could have, but he wasn't going to let that little sheep face steal this away from him. This was _his_, and he would be the one to solve the 'case'.

The blonde woke up that morning, his first thought asking him where he would start this investigation. He knew that peppermint was being stolen, with only the plastic wrappers to be found. It didn't matter where they were placed, all of them were randomly disappearing.

This was already becoming a bit tricky.

Mello sat up from his bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He began to walk towards the door, thinking out loud, despite Matt's tired groaning.

"The thief is leaving wrappers... Right. Well, he's either doing it on purpose, or is too lazy to dispose of them. He's taking on,y the mint. What's so important about them? They do taste good, I guess, but...whatever. Huh...well, the wrappers are spread throughout the orphanage. Maybe it's s message - as if to say, 'ha, I'm taking these, and you can't do anything about it.' That seems almost likely, but the fact that most of them are simply thrown on the floor means the thief may not even care-" Mello suddenly gasped as he opened the door.

'_The thief doesn't care! The wrappers aren't creating trails to others rooms! He opens the mints as he's walking, since the wrapper's too loud to open in the room...he's simply throwing them on the floor! That explains why there aren't any wrappers found in the room!'_

Mello grinned to himself. This was important information that he had just discovered, and although it wouldn't lead to a suspect, it made things a lot clearer. It meant the thief only wanted the mint-which he figured-and was determined to have only the mint.

Mello peered down both ends of the hall where he resided. Sure enough, plastic wrappers littered the hardwood floor, in front of the other kid's doors and leading out into the second floor lobby. It was a dead end on the right of him, so he followed the wrappers to the left.

It seemed the thief only went into the boy's rooms, since he could see there were no wrappers down the single corridor that the girls occupied. It also strengthened the chance that the thief was male, and wouldn't invade a female's privacy-which meant Matt was definitely not a suspect.

The blonde migrated down the other boy's wing and began inspecting. It seemed like there were plenty more wrappers down this way; all over the hallway, in front of doors...except for one, at the very end of the hallway.

'_This is too obvious.' _Mello thought, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the white door. '_This is __**way**_ _too obvious. It couldn't be this person. If it is, how have the others not noticed? They are rather numb...'_

Mello began to walk closer to the door, stepping on the plastic wrappers with his bare feet, creating a crinkling sound.

Wait a minute...

This was Near's bedroom. _Near's_. What could he possibly want with peppermint? He rarely ate anything (Mello had never seen him eat anyway, but it was basically the same thing), and he held no interest in sweets.

Yet Mello had a really bad suspicion that it was Near taking the candies. It was nagging at him, really. Near _had_ to be the one taking the candies. He was almost sure of it.

The moment he opened the door, he was completely positive it was Near who had stolen the candies.

There was peppermint _everywhere_. A fortress was built in his room, with a pile of unused candies in the farthest corner of the room. Pyramids were built around the fort, nearly as tall as the blonde. The only way to get in was through a small crawl space, big enough for a six year old to get through. There was easily a thousand candies in the room. The one who sat in the middle of all of this was a small, recognizable albino sat in a curled position.

Near.

So this was where the candies were disappearing to! For two weeks, candies had been disappearing under all of their noses, and this was where they had ended up!

"Near, what's the meaning of this?" Mello asked, ducking into the crawlspace. He wouldn't go any further.

"Hmm...well, you could say I grew a bit bored. You could also say I wanted to experiment. I was curious to see how the others would react. I was also wondering...

"Would anyone care to solve this?" The albino plopped a candy into his mouth. "Apparently so, because you're here, standing at the scene. I congratulate you-you solved the puzzle."

Near smirked as Mello looked up at him in shock. He did this because he was _bored_? Because he wanted to _experiment_?

"Near, that's the way a killer thinks."

"Then maybe I was changing perspectives for a brief moment. I didn't like it."

Mello was silent for a few minutes. "You know I'm going to have to tell Roger about this…"

"I figured that would be the finality of this." Near sighed.

Mello almost felt guilty. Did he really want to tell Roger this now? Near would get into so much trouble-not to mention it could lower his grades if he got a suspension. The blonde hated the younger boy, and it was tempting to report this to Roger-but he wouldn't stoop that low to get ahead of Near. That was cheating.

"...I won't though. Just this once, you're off the hook." Mello said sternly. He didn't wait for a reply from the younger boy-he simply walked away, shutting the door behind him.

Maybe Mello did care about Near, even if it was the tiniest of fractions.

Just maybe...


	13. Gingerbread

**A/N: Hey guys! No, I didn't forget about you. I was trying to catch up on writing some fics, although I'm still a bit behind. Expect at least two chapters tomorrow. But yeah, it sometimes takes me awhile to update because I write in my journal, then edit it, then type it up, and edit that... it's definitely a process. Also, I'm going to go back and edit a few things in previous chapters, since my friend caught a few typos as she was reading it. So, yeah.**

**Anyway, about this fic: I'm not too pleased with it. I couldn't work with the prompt so easily, so this was all I had. The prompt doesn't really tie in with the fic. It was kind of an 'okay I have this idea' fic. It's kind of depressing as well.**

**Also, I have one follow on this story, and I just wanted to say thank you so much! It really makes me happy to see that people are enjoying these little fics.. okay, now onto the fic. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

**X**

_Gingerbread_

L was sitting alone.

Now, this wasn't unusual. L almost always sat alone, in his awkward crouched position in a chair. He enjoyed the solitude. It helped him think, even when there was nothing to think about. He was able to eat his sweets without remarks, such as 'you'll get fat!' or questions, like ;why do you only ever eat sweets?' Those things bothered him quite a lot. They were simply annoying. But he was L, so he couldn't reveal his feelings.

Which was why this was unusual. He was staring at the petite cakes on the tray in front of him, little two-by-two strawberry cakes lying uneaten on the coffee table. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his face looked melancholic.

A was _dead_.

And it was _his_ fault.

Of course L felt guilty. He was the one who, after all, had pressured him. He knew it was too much for the seventeen year old, yet he did nothing to support him-nothing to relieve him of the pressure, and now one of his friends was gone.

L considered him a friend. He only had two-A, and B. Alternate, and Backup. They hated those names.

This wasn't fair to B. L knew that A was close to him-no, A was his everything. And he, the world's greatest detective-how much he disliked that title at the moment-had taken that away from him.

He wasn't even sure he had B as a friend anymore.

He wanted to go to A's funeral, but he was afraid. He was a coward. He didn't want to break down in front of everyone. He didn't want to face B, because he knew that he wouldn't even look him in the eyes.

(He didn't want to see A's body lying in the casket,)

L curled up tighter, his head against his knees. Why was the successor plan still going? It wasn't right. He knew it wasn't right. He couldn't keep thrusting pressure onto these innocent kids.

It was Watari who started it, and it would be L who ended it.

"Watari…"

The elderly man, who had just entered the room, looked down at the young adult. "Yes, L?"

L took a shuddering breath, lifting his head to see Watari. "I want you to cancel the successor program."

A look of shock flashed across Watari's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, stop it. Stop the entire thing."

Watari blinked, "For what reason would you-"

"Because A!" L yelled, losing his temper. "Because A didn't deserve to die. Nobody deserves to die. The only reason A is dead is because of me...he couldn't...handle the pressure. He died because of _me_…"

The guilt was sinking in further and further. '_It's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's all my fault..' _ He kept thinking.

"L, it is not your fault A felt pressured." Watari said.

"No, it is! Don't try to carelessly mollify me because you don't want me to be angry! It is my fault, and you saying it wasn't my fault is only making me feel worse about it! It _is _fault, because he was supposed to be _my _successor! And now he's gone...I've left B all alone...What have I done?" A single tear escaped his obsidian-colored eye.

L had never shown emotion like this before. Not even to Watari-Wammy. He was Wammy, who founded The Wammy House; he was the one who raised L, and A, and B, and attempted to groom two of them into the next L.

"I need to speak with B." L said. He stood from his position climbed over the arm of the chair. "I apologize, Wammy." L sighed before he exited the room and walked out.

He took his cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial the number to Wammy's House…

He hung up at the dial tone. He needed to talk to B face to face; he was going to Wammy's, for the sole purpose of apologizing. He needed to apologize to B. To Backup.

The one who now called himself Beyond Birthday.

**. . .**

The raven-haired man walked up to the front of the orphanage. He wasn't sure if he was prepared for this.

This talk wasn't going to go well, and he knew this. He knew B wouldn't forgive him. There was no way. If L were B, he wouldn't forgive himself. If someone else had taken away something he loved, there was only one person he could blame.

And that was himself.

He knew that B was blaming L for A's death, and that L wouldn't be able to shake off that guilt.

Once L made it into the orphanage, his instincts told him to go to the dining room. It just seemed right. It was late at night, after all, and B had most likely locked himself in his room for the entire day. He needed something to eat.

As he was walking, memories began to flood his mind.

_Him, B and A, when they were innocent children, down this exact hall...him and B, when they stole Roger's lunch and hid it in a house plant...the time L hid here during their advanced games of hide and seek…_

These memories didn't seem real. They seemed like they were someone else's-like they didn't belong to him.

L entered the dining room to see B sitting in a fashion similar to his own. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a few days, and his clothes were wrinkled, as though he had been sleeping in him. He held a brown colored cake yet no bites had been taken from it yet.

"No."

L froze at the words; it was as though B had read his mind.

"I don't forgive you." B's voice began to crack as he spoke. "You took my precious A away."

"I'm…I'm sor-"

B slammed his fist down on the table, standing as he did so. He also squished the cake. "No! No matter how many times you apologize, the answer will _always_ be no."

L stared at B. He could feel his heart shatter into tiny, minuscule pieces. These words hurt him so much.

"...Gingerbread was A's favorite, you know. But _you_ wouldn't care. Why would you?"

L stayed silent.

"I _will_ get revenge, L. Sweet, sweet revenge. As sweet as strawberry jam." B grinned, then laughed. He had snapped. Truly snapped.

L turned away from B, tears leaking from his eyes.

L had lost both of his friends. The ones who cared for him were gone.

L was alone.

And he was a monster.


	14. Presents

**A/N: Hello! So I edited all of my fics, whoo-hoo! Anyway, this fic...I really got into it. I enjoyed writing it, especially the ending. I'll try not to spoil anything, but I don't know if this should be a non-canon one-shot or canon. I think I'll go with canon for this one, but the ending is a bit AU; I assume this either took place in between the Kira case and LABB Murder cases or after both of them, like after Mello leaves. But that wouldn't make much sense...I'll let you decide. To be honest I don't even know why it bothers me so much. I guess I just like a set timeframe so I get the story? I don't know...also, there's a lot of dialogue in this fic. Hope you enjoy!**

**Also, I don't know if I'll be able to post two chapters tonight. It's currently really late here, so I may post three tomorrow. I'm not going to make any promises though, since it seems that I keep breaking them…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor the video games mentioned in this story. I also don't own the quote from Death Note; Another Note. :3**

**X**

_Presents_

"Matt."

Silence.

"_Matt_."

More silence.

"Matt!"

"What?" asked an irritated Matt.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

Matt didn't like the idea of giving presents to people for Christmas-for anything, really-nor did he like receiving presents. He never knew what to get people, yet they always knew what to get him. This usually made him feel like complete and utter shit, which then made him cringe whenever another season rolled around.

The things Matt did receive were usually video games. Never mind his cigarettes; they completely ignored them, and his…'addiction' for them. Of course, he _loved_ video games-but to be honest, he didn't like playing sonic in different variations.

"Well?" Mello asked.

"I don't know."

Mello was getting quite frustrated with the redhead, who was lying on the floor playing his Playstation 2. He wasn't answering his question!

"Well, you have to have some idea." Mello pushed, watching the game on the TV.

"Uhm...smokes, booze, and video games." Matt said.

"..."

"Problem?"

"Yeah, actually. How the hell do you expect me to sneak booze in here?"

Matt shrugged. "Pull an A and B."

"No, Matt!"

"Then, I don't know."

Mello groaned. Why did Matt always have to be so difficult? It annoyed the blonde so much. He swore every single year they did this. This was the first year the redhead had asked for cigarettes and alcohol, though: mainly because he was almost fifteen, and was beginning to sink into a more laid-back attitude. It wasn't bad or anything-it was actually nice. Whatever Mello suggested doing, he went along with. But, once again, it was annoying how he brushed off every single thing, like it was nothing. The world could have been ending, and he'd be saying that it was no big deal.

"Mattie, just tell me…"

"Don't call me 'Mattie'."

"Fine, then is dickhead okay?"

"It's better than 'Mattie'."

Mello glared at the redhead, who smirked underneath his bangs.

"While we're on the topic of presents, what do _you_ want? Besides chocolate, I mean."

Mello thought for a moment. All he ever really asked for was chocolate...and due to the amount of work being loaded onto them right before Christmas break, he really didn't have time to stop and think. There wasn't anything he necessarily needed, besides chocolate. If he didn't eat at least a tiny bite of chocolate within two days, he began to have withdrawal symptoms (or so Matt called them.) This year, he did want more chocolate...but what did he really want other than that?

"...Maybe a book."

Matt paused his game and raised an eyebrow beneath his orange goggles. "A book? Are you feeling alright?"

"Ha ha, aren't you just so funny. I actually prefer reading over most things, so yeah, a book. If that's not acceptable, then a typewriter."

"Why..?"

"...Writing is a hobby?"

"...Whatever you want, Mells."

"Don't call me Mells."

Matt smirked before placing a tender kiss on the blonde's cheek.

**. . .**

Christmas Day rolled around, and all of the children-excluding Near-were filled with excitement. Mello was excited to see Matt's reaction-Matt just wanted dinner.

Mello was able to get what Matt wanted: A few packs of cigarettes, and a Spyro game. Let's be honest here; Matt had an addiction to Spyro, and so did everyone else who owned those games. It was a fact. The blonde figured he'd at least be somewhat excited over the game. He was not, however, able to retrieve the booze. There was no way he'd be able to sneak a whole bottle of alcohol past Roger. It was nearly impossible.

Matt had apparently not slept at all the previous night; Mello had woken up to find the redhead's bed empty, and found him a few minutes later in the tech room, lying on the floor, playing Medievil 2.

"Morning." Mello mumbled.

"Morning." Matt said, although it came out muffled because of the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"You realize if Roger caught you with that, you'd rather be in Hell, right?"

Matt shrugged.

Mello shook his head, walking over to the redhead and taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Mello." Matt whined.

"Outside or none. I've told you this before."

Matt paused his game to look up at the blonde, who was wearing only a baggy T-shirt as his pajamas. " Have I ever told you how sexy you look in your PJs?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You're not smoking inside."

"I never said I was, but whatever." The redhead said as he resumed his video game.

"Matt."

"Huh?"

"Come on, i want you to open your present!"

"Fine." Matt groaned, pausing his game (again). He stood up, and walked out into the lobby area where the Christmas tree was.

He nearly hissed at the light.

"Holy shit, it's bright."

Mello smacked Matt. "Don't cuss in front of the others."

"Dammit, shit, ass, fu-"

"Matt!" Mello yelled. "Roger is right around the corner!"

With a roll of his eyes, the redhead reluctantly stopped swearing and took a seat onto the floor.

Mello slid his presents over to him, which included a present from Near, surprisingly. Matt opened this present first, which was The Sims, as a CD ROM. "Thanks, Near!" Matt shouted across the room. Nesr nodded in response.

"Open mine!" Mello exclaimed.

"Hold on a minute." Matt said, taking one of the presents. He began to unwrap it, and dropped the game in shock.

"Holy shit, Mello! Thank you so much!"

Mello grinned. "You're welcome."

"Let me grab yours...It's kind of heavy, so just wait a second." Mstt stood up and walked behind the tree, picking up a rather large box.

"I didn't want it to get broken, so I hid it amongst the pile of other fragile presents." Matt dropped the box-or rather, placed it down gently-in front of Mello, who looked rather confused.

"Go on, open it." The redhead said, a smug grin on his face.

Mello took the edge of his nail and cut the tape open, and took out the paper wrappings that were stuffed inside the cardboard box. He gasped at the sight.

Lying inside was a typewriter, in pristine condition.

"How the hell did you get your hands on this?!"

Matt shrugged. "I have my ways."

"They must be good then…"

"I love you, Mello."

"I love you too, Matt." Mello planted a soft kiss onto Matt's lips.

The blonde took the typewriter up to his room immediately after witnessing Matt unwrap his cigarettes, and began to think of what to write about.

He placed the typewriter down on his desk, and centered it. He placed some paper into it, and took a seat in his chair.

'_What to write about..._'

An idea struck him. He knew just the right thing.

The blonde began typing.

"_When Beyond Birthday committed his third murder, he attempted an experiment…"_


	15. Fireplace

**Hey guys! So I figured I'd type this one up while I was still awake. Another fic will be posted tonight, and maybe another one, although I doubt it. It depends on if I get it written. Anyway, this fic is kind of depressing, and maybe a bit short. I tried to make it long, but due to my shortage of pages in my journal, I was forced to make it short. Well, I could've continued it in another journal, but I was too stubborn. It just sort of happened...Trigger warning, there are thoughts of suicide. Just thought I'd let you know. I also wanted to thank you guys for following and favoriting, it really means a lot. And now, onto the fic!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Tsugumi Ohba, and don't own Death Note.**

**X**

_Fireplace_

No one really paid attention to the fireplace in the common room.

A nice, stone fireplace sat in the back of the room, a fire almost always going in it during the winter season. How the fire got there, nobody really knew. It was tended to, however, and was clean of any ashes when a new fire was burning. It was peculiar, but nobody seemed to really wonder who did it. It was simply there.

Near liked the fireplace. He thought the grey stone contrasted nicely with the olive green walls, especially during Christmas, when the snow collected on the windows. The decor on the mantle also looked very nice (except for the _damn_ tinsel.)

He liked how the fire made him feel at home.

Wammy's seemed very strange to Near. It was his home, but he didn't ever feel like it was. At the age of ten, and having been here since he was six, you'd expect him to feel somewhat comfortable in the house-but that was just not the case.

He felt like he was treated differently from the others-no, he _knew_ he was treated differently from the others. The teachers talked to him like he was a grown adult-and so did everyone else above the age of twenty. Sometimes, it was nice, but constantly, it was not. Sure, he had a mentality that was way over his actual age; but he didn't enjoy it. He was still technically a child, after all. But the other children didn't see him that way. They either saw him as an enemy, because he was above all of them (even though he really wasn't), or as someone they weren't allowed to talk to, or bother in any way.

There was Linda, who tried talking to him on occasion, but Near knew she only tried because she liked him. It was embarrassing, and made Near feel bad, because he didn't like her back. Mello _hated_ him, which was a shame, since he actually had no problem with the blonde. What had he done to cause Mello to hate him? He must've done it without knowing.

Near hated being alone.

It ucked. He didn't like being alone all the time. Everywhere he went, he was alone-in class, in the dining hall, in the rec room. Sometimes, he wanted someone there with him. He wanted at least one friend, not someone who was an acquaintance. He wanted someone to be there-but he knew better to think that anyone would want to be.

Thinking about this made Near frustrated, and rather depressed. He really needed somebody...someone to rely on. just one person, that he knew would never come.

Maybe he didn't need anybody…

Maybe it would be better if he simply went away…

"Hey, Near." He heard from the front of the room. It was...Matt. Great. He refused to turn away from the fireplace and face the redhead.

"Near?"

"Yes, Matt?" Near asked.

"You didn't reply the first time. Is something wrong?"

"Everything is fine." Near snapped.

Matt walked over and took a seat next to Near. There was obviously something wrong-the younger boy wasn't acting like he normally did. He was quite concerned for him. He was staring at the fire, as if in deep thought, and his eyes were cloudy, as if tears were going to spill.

"Matt, be honest with me. Do you like me?" The white-haired boy asked.

"Not in _that_ way, but...I guess, as an acquaintance, or a friend."

Near laughed, but not in the humourous way. "Right. I said honest, not what you think I expect to hear."

"Near, what's going on?"

Near took a deep breath. "I'm just thinking, is all. I'm just wondering how it would affect people if I were to just disappear. And, from the sound of it, I have come to the conclusion that no one would care. It wouldn't affect anyone, if I went away."

Matt stared at the younger boy in shock, then slapped him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell, Near?! You really think nobody would miss you?! Linda would miss you, I would miss you, even Mello would miss you!"

Near simply blinked.

"Near, why would you want to? Don't you dare even think about it! You may not see it, but you are _fucking amazing_, and people care for you. Alright?"

"I just...feel so alone. No one talks to me because they believe they can't bother me, and I'm done feeling so isolated. It's true that I sometimes can't stand others, but I need at least one person to spend my time with; someone who won't take me so seriously, or thing every conversation has to be brief or intellectual. I'm done feeling like no one cares about me. That's why I came here in the first place; because nobody cared. My _parents _didn't care. It's not fair." Near took a breath before continuing. "I can't feel like I'm finally at home, like I've finally found somewhere that I can take a breath, because I feel the same way I did all those years ago. That feeling of entering someone else's home for the first time, and not getting used to it...That's how I still feel. That's how I'll always feel. So what's the point being here when I know no one gives a shit? All it makes me...is a waste of space."

Finally. Everything that had been built up inside of the young boy was finally out. That was how he really felt, and he didn't know whether it was right to tell Matt or not. Now he was angry at himself. Why did he just confess all of this to Matt?

The redhead patted the younger boy's back. He felt absolutely _terrible_. The fact that Near was feeling this way made _him_ feel like he had to do something. It wasn't okay for him to want to fucking _kill himself_ because he thought no one cared.

"Near, you are not a waste of space. Not at all. You are a genius-you are amazing. I agree, it's not fair that you feel that way. I want you to know that I care for you. See? I listened, and I understand. When I say I understand, I mean it. It's hard, I know, and you don't deserve to feel this way. The world needs you-L needs you, Mello needs you. Mello doesn't hate you-he just sees you as a challenge, and he likes that he has someone to 'compete' with. Linda cares for you, Roger cares for you, I care for you. Okay? You're not done. I'm here."

Near finally looked over to Matt. A single tear had fallen from his eyes. Matt really did care. After all this time, he had been blind, but Matt really did care.

"Thank you, Matt."

The redhead smiled softly at the young albino, pulling him into a side hug. "I'm always her, and I care. Alright?"

Near nodded.

"Now, do you want to make some S'mores?"

Near gave a soft smile, wiping the tear from his face. "I'd love to."


	16. Stockings

**A/N: Holy crap, I honestly can't believe this fic is at 20,000 words. Above 20,000 words. Seriously. Well, here's another chapter for tonight. I probably won't be able to post another chapter tonight, but I'll at least write it in my NEW journal and hopefully will be able to type it up tomorrow morning. Anyway (a word I most definitely overuse in A/Ns), I decided we needed to see more A when he was alive. So I have resurrected him and BAM: an entire fic for A. Yay! BE NICE TO A AND A SAY HELLO.**

**A: ...Hi.**

**Good A. Anyway, there's some A/B in here. I ship them so much, like OTP...Okay, enjoy the fic! :)**

**Disclaimer: If I were Tsugumi Ohba, A AND B WOULD BE SO CANON THAT DEATH NOTE PROBABLY WOULDN'T EVEN EXIST AND THE ENTIRE SERIES WOULD PROBABLY JUST BE ABOUT THEM.**

**X**

_Stockings_

When a new child came to Wammy's, they received a new stocking hang on their door for Christmas.

A had had his since he was five, and it had grown quite worn since then. The red fabric, once smooth and clean, was now missing small chunks of fibers and no longer reflected in the light. The top, that resembled the stocking being folded over, had yellowed with age and made the thing look quite old; much older than it actually was.

A loved it nonetheless.

It was the first thing he had when he got to Wammy's, which was why Christmas was one of the brunette's favorite holiday's. It always seemed so festive, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood during break, except for a select few. He was definitely more laid back during the holidays, but still tended to be a bit stressed. He continued to study through the holidays, just a lot less than usual.

He _had_ to stay on top of his grades, and slacking off was not going to help him remember all of these things he was expected to know. Which was why he was stressing himself out, because he was L's successor; he _had_ to be like L.

He was an experiment, and he knew this.

A couldn't say that he liked being an experiment, because he most certainly hated it. Of course, it was an honor to be in the program, and to be L's successor so far; but the orphanage was trying to make him perfect. Wammy was trying to make him into an exact replica of L.

The thing was, he would never be L. A would never be L, and that was a fact. He could get close to L, and being like L, but that was all. Never would the hazel-eyes, brunette boy be the raven-haired panda.

A admired him, though. He seemed pretty cool. He was extremely intelligent, and sometimes even intimidated A, but he was fun to hang around with. They were friends for a very long while.

Listening to music was their thing. A's record player was his sanctuary,and sometimes even L's. He loved his record player. After long days, A liked to listen to his music, and usually popped in a Nirvana record and lied on his bed; L would occasionally join him, and sit on the floor humming the lyrics.

A preferred alternative music as opposed to what L and B listened to. B and L liked bands such as Slipknot, but A liked his Green Day.

A liked the smoothness of his music, and the way the notes rolled off the instruments in long drags. It helped him concentrate on what he was doing, and he also just liked it. He favored it. He was a music junkie, and he couldn't help it. The teen had an impressive collection of vinyl records-at least seventy three cases floated around his room, and there were even more records stashed in one of his desk drawers.

Every year, someone would anonymously leave a record next to his door, with no name of the record or a case to hold it. This would have gone in his stocking, but it was simply too large to fit in the sock. A never knew what was on the record until he played it, and it ended up being music that he didn't even know existed. It was always slow alternative; He could tell by the vocals that each record was different. These records were the ones he had in his desk drawer.

Perhaps this year, he'd see who was doing such a thing. A had always been curious about it; who would go to such lengths to retrieve an unknown album?

...B. B would. B knew A loved music, and B would be the one to do this. L was gone now, and no one else really knew of his passion for music. Who else could it be?

So tonight would be the night he would catch B in the act.

A spent the night studying, with only his lamp lighting the room, and his record player softly resonating Pearl Jam.

Calculus. Easy calculus was what he was studying. He was attempting to memorize the formulas, and everything else that went along with it. He was also trying to solve his own problems written down on the lined paper in front of him, when he heard soft footsteps coming from the corridor.

A had to make sure he was hearing right. It was now two in the morning, according to his digital clock, and he was surprised anyone was awake. B, he could understand, since that boy never slept.

A sprung up from his chair, nearly knocking it over while doing so, and ran to his bedroom door. He pressed an ear against the door, and he could hear the footsteps-which were coming from right outside his room-a lot clearer now.

They were right there.

A slammed open the door, and hit someone.

"Ow! Fuck, A, was that necessary?"

So it was B who was delivered the records each year. His suspicions had been correct, and all he could do was grin at the red-eyed teen.

"A? Hello?"

"Oh, sorry...I just didn't...hi."

B rolled his eyes. "Hi. Yeah, it's me. The things I do to get these for you."

"What do you do?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets. Nor do geniuses." B smirked.

"So, do you know the names of the records? The artists? Anything?"

B shook his head. "I forgot all of them; I thought maybe you could come up with names for them. You always had an active imagination.

A nodded.  
>"Well, I really appreciate it. I've grown to love them. They've slowly become a part of me. I have to listen to at least one a day."<p>

"Aren't you sentimental."

"Sorry."

B laughed. "Don't be sorry. It's cute."

A raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm...cute?"

A blush began to form on B's porcelain cheek. "I...yeah, a bit."

B thought he was cute? That couldn't be right. In any case, A wasn't gay. Or, maybe he was. Maybe he was bisexual. But he never really found guys attractive.

"Erm..I'm not…"

"You don't know that, A. I can tell you're confused." B whispered into his ear.

"I don't know, B. You're awesome and all, but I don't know-" A was cut off by B, whose lips crashed onto his own.

Oh shit. B was kissing him. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

A didn't want to kiss back, but he felt compelled to. Like he needed to kiss B. His lips, once sealed shut, began to open slightly, but he pulled away just as B was about to snake his tongue into his mouth.

"I'm...debating."

"Debating what, A?"

A grinned. "Whether or not I want to kiss you again."


	17. Author's Note

p style="text-align: center;"strongA/N:/strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongSo uhm...Hey there!strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongI am so, emsoem sorry for having not updated this fic in a few days. It seems I have.../strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongHit a writer's block.strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strong*sighs*strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongI've been trying to write forever, seriously, nothing has been coming to me. I've tried every single prompt to write, but all I come up with are sucky drabble things...not only that, but I've also been procrastinating a lot more. I keep saying I'm going to write, then I go to write, then I sit there for an hour until I just get frustrated. strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongI don't want to stop writing this series, I want to finish it. So for the time being, I'm simply going to postpone this story. I will update spontaneously, eventually return to complete this series. strong/p  
>p style="text-align: center;"strongSo until then...Sayonara, my friends!strong/p 


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